


Well-Intentioned Sentences

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Literature (Star Wars), Gen, Minor Character Death, Star Wars Literature, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 20:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Clone Trooper Challi is killed in action in early 20BBY.His novel is published eight months later.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Worldbuilding Exchange 2021





	Well-Intentioned Sentences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lleu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/gifts).



**Excerpt from the novel Avenge the Nation Above, written by Juasiz Maffess in the year 20BBY**

> "I am unarmed," Hainnip pleads, "I am beaten. I do not ask for mercy, but I beg of you, return my body to my family, and let them be." Hainnip pauses, breathes heavy. His eyes don't leave your feet. "Enough blood has been spilled, don't you agree?"
> 
> And-- you find yourself wavering at a precipice, your duty to the dead warring with the honor the living demand. Because the truth is that _yes_ , you are tired, _yes_ , you want this done. You're holding your vibrosword up, ready to kill, but you can feel the way you're trembling with exhaustion, with the relief of it being over, _finally_ being over. You stare down at Hainnip-- your friend, your enemy, the man who's haunted both your best and worst dreams for years-- and you can feel your sword arm lowering--
> 
> And then you see the decorative jade pendant that used to dangle off of Kelou's hallikset gleaming on Hainnip's belt.
> 
> For a moment, the world turns red.
> 
> You remember how Kelou's cursing had taken on a whole new level of viciousness when Hainnip ripped his talisman off of his hallikset. Kelou was furious that Hainnip would dare take it as a trophy, vowed retribution, and Hainnip had responded to that by killing him.
> 
> Right here, right now, you realize that you are furious that it was taken as a trophy, that this demagolka stole both your chosen brother's talisman and life, and dares still to wear the former.
> 
> There is a swirling whirlpool of rage that's pulling you down, and as it beats in your chest, your heart burns. Your heart burns just as Kelou's body did on the pyre, burns just like your hands did when you ignored the way the flames licked at your hands and took his hallikset out so you could then put your own queterra in it's place. You'd watched the spiritual instrument you'd had since you were an infant go up in flames with dry eyes, because you knew you wouldn't need it anymore, would never play again now that the one who knew the sound of your heart is dead. You'd stood there, and watched Kelou burn, his hallikset clutched in your burnt hands, a song you'd never get to hear again.
> 
> You stand here now, sword at the ready, and your heart burns. You stand here now, and your eyes are dry, and you want this to be over, but Force hells, it seems like this will never be over. Because while the war might be won, there is no end to the fight, because your brother was betrayed, and your heart is still pumping with your rage.
> 
> You think this, you feel this, and moments later you are watching as Hainnip's body goes slack on the other end of your blade and his spirit joins the Force.

**20 BBY, The Fortitude  
**

Kall stares down at the holopad in his hands, tries to scroll to the next page. Fails, but-- no, that can't be the conclusion. It _can't_ be. Challi wouldn't have ended it _there_. He's always been an di'kut who loves happy endings. Kall tries to find the next page again. And then he fails again.

“Well, kark,” he says, the words a little too rough, a little too real. He breathes in, breathes out. Swallows. He feels a little bit like he just got the wind knocked out of him, and it takes effort to tear his eyes away from the words, and look at Tice instead. “Kark. Karking _hell_. Is that _seriously_ how it ends?”

Tice huffs, because Tice is a brat of a shiny who's just asking to scrub the mess hall with his toothbrush. “He didn’t exactly get to finish it, you know,” he replies, the words pointed. His tone of voice implies what he's not saying pretty clearly, and Kall bites back his anger at the easygoing tone, braces himself against the pang of grief that follows on it's heels. "This is where he ended it, and unless you want _me_ to change it--"

"Absolutely not," Kall interrupts. His fingers tighten around the holopad against his will, which is ridiculous. He _knows_ Tice isn't going to try and take it from him, _knows_ he won't make changes unless Kall gives him express permission. There's no reason he should hold onto the 'pad like it's a lifeline. He needs to kriffing stop. Hell, even if Tice _was_ a danger, he knows he could take him with one hand tied behind his back. " _Kark_."

Tice just watches him silently, the little weirdo. What is even up with these newer generations? There's no way Kall was this flippant as a shiny, no way he was as stupidly daring. If Tice had any sense, he would've delivered the holopad to Kall, and then taken the kark off.

It's not exactly a secret that Kall and Challi were chosen brothers. Anyone with sense would respect that, wouldn't try and stick their nose where it doesn't karking belong.

Karking _shinies_.

"You said there was a way to get this published under a pseudonym?" Kall asks

Tice nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! I've got an in with the Corries, and they--"

Kall holds up a hand, cutting him off. Karking idiot. "Do you _want_ your contact to get reconditioned? Because that can happen. You keep running your mouth like that, and that _will_ happen. I asked a yes or no question. Don't give me information I don't want."

Tice blinks at him, eyes wide, like being discrete is a _new_ concept to him. _Karking hell_ , Kall thinks, and presses the palm of his hand to his forehead, attempts to ward off the incoming headache. "Got it. Yes. I'm shutting up now."

Kall rolls his eyes, and drags his hand down his face.

"Yes, I'd like to do that," Kall forces out once he can trust himself to open his mouth and not say something stupid. Or rude. Or cruel.

The words that he says are technically lies. He knows that. The truth is-- Kall doesn't want to publish Challi's work. He _certainly_ doesn't want to publish it under a karking pseudonym. He wants to kriffing keep it to himself! Challi's writing is the only thing he has that truly belonged to his chosen brother, the only thing the GAR can't karking requisition back. Kall doesn't want to karking share that with _anyone_ , wants to keep the last remnants of his vod in a kriffing lockbox that electrocutes anyone who even looks at it, but--

But he can't. He can't, because Challi wouldn't want that, and for all that Kall hates even thinking about giving Challi's writing away, he hates thinking about _not_ doing so more. Challi wanted his work shared, dreamed of having people besides his fellow clones read it. Getting it published under a pseudonym could accomplish both of those goals at once.

Kall sighs, and stares back down at the holopad in his hands. Reads over the last line one more time, commits it to his memory, because it might not be like Challi to end his story on such a bleak note, but he _died_ , so he _did_ , so Kall just has to accept that. Live with it. Move on.

_You think this, you feel this, and moments later you are watching as Hainnip's body goes slack on the other end of your blade and his spirit joins the Force._

"Alright," Kall says, "Right. Let's get to it, then. How do we get in touch with your contact?"

**Author's Note:**

> Lleu, I hope you enjoyed!!!
> 
> The whole concept of chosen brothers in this fic was loosely inspired by the Chinese custom of sworn brotherhood-- if you want to learn more about that, [here](https://twitter.com/_yuuuchen/status/1301312742100316160) is a really informative Twitter thread I found regarding this topic, and [here](https://pages.ucsd.edu/~dkjordan/scriptorium/jyebay.html) is an incredibly in-depth article about it. 
> 
> Lleu, your prompt regarding the question of who, exactly, would handle the copyright questions after a clone trooper died gave me _so many plot bunnies_ , oh my _god_ , so I just had to explore that. Personally, I feel like there wouldn't really be an official system there (or anything even vaguely resembling a system at all lol) but the general consensus would be that the clone whom was closest to the deceased should handle it. It would absolutely be handled solely by the clones themselves though-- the risk of bringing a natborn in, even a "trusted" one would be seen as simply not being worth it. 
> 
> The title of the fake novel in this fic (Avenge the Nation Above) comes from a [quote](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oath_of_the_Peach_Garden) from the Wikisource translation of the Chinese historical novel _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_. Specifically, the title comes from the Oath of the Peach Garden, which is the scene where the main characters swear their oath of brotherhood. Because I'm just personally very fond of that entire quote.
> 
> Ngl, the whole "the novel ends REALLY BRUTALLY because the author died before they could finish it" was literally just me seeing my copy of _The Aeneid_ while I was brainstorming for this fic, and getting INSPIRED. The excerpt part bit of this was actually only supposed to be like the last two lines of the "novel" with Star Wars!Aeneas killing Star Wars!Turnus but then I got INTO it, oops. Anyway, once I actually committed to writing the fake novel excerpt, I knew that I really wanted to work in as many fire=death symbolism bits as I could into the "novel" because of the in-universe saying "From water, you are born. In fire you die. Your bodies seed the stars" which is a quote from _Star Wars: The Essential Guide to Warfare_ by Jason Fry, and also is apparently an in-universe mantra that the clone troopers heard a lot as kids. Which is _very_ fucked up, but I feel like any clone writer would absolutely end up incorporating that into their work, even if it's just subconsciously. 
> 
> Also, fun fact: the [quetarra](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Quetarra) and [hallikset](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Seven-string_hallikset) were not made up by me, they're actually two real instruments in the GFFA. The quetarra is a Zabrak musical instrument that has eight strings, and the hallikset has seven strings and is really popular on Naboo!


End file.
